


The Other Side

by barrelcat



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Other, Unsure, We'll see what happens - Freeform, but not everything, some of this is planned out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-23 16:41:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30058440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barrelcat/pseuds/barrelcat
Summary: Confronted with an uncertain future within the Kingdom of Corona, Cassandra is finally offered the chance to venture out and create the destiny she's always wanted for herself. She takes the opportunity and runs with it. But what does this destiny entail? Where will she go, who will she meet, what obstacles will she face, and, perhaps most importantly, how will she cope with the outcomes of the trials she's already faced?This is only the beginning of a journey that promises to challenge her in so many ways.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 14





	1. Dull Sun

“Running away, eh?” the guard asked, accusation thick in his tone.

  
His mustache curled up as he frowned down at the parchment clutched in a gauntleted hand, reading through it for what Cassandra felt was the tenth time. There was no breeze, but he shook the paper regardless, roving over its surface with squinted eyes as if he couldn’t get the letters to make sense. She flinched at that, noted the crinkles that had appeared when he first grabbed it from her and how they had become more apparent as he held onto it.

  
“Careful with that,” she reproved.

  
He didn’t look up, “I’m being careful.”

  
Cassandra made a face, dissatisfied, and Fidella danced idly beneath her. The mare could tell when its rider was unhappy, and confronted as they were by the armored sentries blocking their path and the handful who stared down from the crenelated wall above, her own nerves got the best of her. Cassandra patted her neck, calming the beast as best she could. They both looked beyond, through the gateway that led out of Corona.

  
If they could only get there.

  
“Easy girl, we’ll be done soon,” she cooed, drawing a scoff from one of their living roadblocks.

  
The parchment he held was one of two parting gifts Rapunzel had given Cassandra before she left. The other was a journal decorated with images of their adventures together, and was much like the one the princess had used during their journey the year previous.

  
“One to write your own stories in, Cass, and the other in case anyone gives you any trouble while you’re living them.”

  
“What do you mean?” Cassandra had asked.

  
Rapunzel’s cheeks flushed, “I just want you to be safe. At least while you’re still in Corona.”

  
Cassandra shook her head. She didn’t understand.

  
The princess sighed, “Just look it over when you have the chance. And don’t lose it.”

  
When the tears had dried after their parting, Cassandra brought the parchment out and read it herself, understanding immediately why Rapunzel had passed on discussing its contents.

  
The pair had been through so much, grown so close, then apart, then together again just as quickly. Opening their hearts to each other was something Rapunzel had been able to do from the very beginning of their friendship and something Cassandra had learned to do only after years of dedicated work. She found herself better for it, even in the wake of Corona’s near destruction. But after breaking the violet wax seal of the document, her own cheeks went red as well. She knew that some things were best left unspoken.

  
Cassandra didn’t blame the guard for scowling like he was, didn’t blame him for calling over the other on duty, holding the document out for him to peruse as well. In so many words, it granted Cassandra freedom of movement within and outside of Corona. It declared her free and clear of any charges that may have been leveled against her, and it forbade any member of the royal guard or other citizen of Corona from harassing her in any form that may be influenced by her previous actions. In the eyes of the crown, Cassandra was innocent of any crimes she may have otherwise been accused of during the last several months.

  
When she had first read over the document, Cassandra had been furious. Both Fidella and Owl could tell she was bothered, the one tossing her head and flicking her tail, the other taking flight from the saddle horn seemingly to escape the waves of anger Cassandra emitted. 

  
The proclamation would be a constant reminder of what she had done, what she had tried to do. Even if it didn’t spell out her crimes word for word, every time Cassandra saw the crisp yellow paper and the gold and violet ribbon that hung from the king’s seal, she would think back to the days when she wore the Moonstone, when her thoughts were tainted by its destructive power. Then the words of the warlock Zhan Tiri in the guise of a child would rise up to the forefront of Cassandra’s thoughts and send chills down her spine, calling the specter of misplaced hatred and the desire for unnecessary revenge to hover within her mind.

  
She had been angry not because it was a reminder of what she had done - she would need to come to terms with those actions eventually - but because, she realized, it was necessary. She found the smallest voice within pleading to convince herself that this was another way for Rapunzel to lord her power, another way for the princess to show that even away from Corona, Cassandra would still need her.

  
She silenced the voice as quickly as possible. This was the act of a friend, luckily for Cassandra a powerful friend, and one who wanted only the best for her. It was not enough that Rapunzel, through some miracle, had convinced the Coronan court that Cassandra should be afforded her freedom and be allowed to leave if she so desired. With the proclamation, Rapunzel had shielded her from any harm and hate the people may have thrown her way as well; at least if they feared reprisal from the Crown. She was thankful, relieved even, but just as ashamed.

  
Despite her actions, Cassandra loved Corona. She loved its people, her father, even Fitzherbert, and of course Rapunzel most of all, but she knew that leaving the place where she had lived all her life was the proper course of action. For all of them.  
But these guards weren’t making it easy, hemming and hawing like they were.

  
Cassandra had hoped she wouldn’t have to show the document to anyone. She had avoided the main road leading from the castle city to the border of the kingdom; few traveled the side roads, and those who did see her either did not recognize her or pretended they didn’t. Her father was a respected man. All the guards knew who he was, and by extension, her. And so here she was.

  
Cassandra crossed her arms. “Look, are you going to let me through or not?”

  
Below her, Fidella could feel Cassandra tense. The mare shifted her weight, eager to continue on and run to expend the negative emotion. Owl began to preen himself, seated as he was back on the saddle horn. He wanted to fly away, but the bird was smart, knew that anything sudden might invite danger. Cassandra had been an exceptional trainer.  
Both of the guards looked up from their conversation. Quiet as they had spoken with each other, Cassandra knew they questioned the legitimacy of the document. This was going to be difficult.

  
They seemed familiar, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember their names. Given her father’s position, Cassandra had, at one point, known the name and station of nearly every guard under his service. But these men were young, new. They had been trained and inducted while she had been on the road with Rapunzel and Fitzherbert almost two years ago. Cassandra only recognized them now from her brief time around the castle immediately after… the events. She wished she had paid better attention. Some familiarity might have gone a long way.

  
When she appeared from one of the side roads and approached the gate, it was obvious they knew who she was. Rapunzel had assured Cassandra that some sort of message or missive had been circulated among the guards so they wouldn’t hassle her, yet still they barred her path. So out the proclamation had come.

  
“You didn’t answer my question,” the mustached guard said. His eyes were dark; fixed on Cassandra like arrow points.

  
“What?” she glowered.

  
“I asked if you were running away,” he repeated.

  
The guard next to him took the parchment, Cassandra noting that he carefully folded it, though kept it held firmly in his grasp. He was taller than the first, eyes lighter, expression softer, curious. He held no aggression in his stance, instead inspected her closely, no doubt assessing if she was or would become a threat. He may have been cool and calm of demeanor, but his partner certainly wasn’t. Noble as the guards stationed at the castle may have been, there was no telling how other folks might act given the chance to confront her alone. And she didn’t like how the mustached guard was beginning to bristle.

  
Her instincts kicked in, telling her it was best to be prepared.

  
“No, I’m not running from anything. I’m simply leaving,” she said, matter-of-factly. Beneath the heavy cloak she wore, Cassandra gripped Fidella’s reins tightly in one hand. “And as you can see, I’m not breaking any laws,” she nodded to the proclamation.

  
With the other hand hidden beneath her cloak, she grasped the hilt of a dagger. She wouldn’t harm them, not if she could help it, but if she became cornered, a blunt blow from the pommel could cause them to stumble, knock them to the ground. Violence wasn’t what she wanted, especially not now, especially after everything that had happened. But she was so close to leaving, to being away and on her own. Nothing was going to get in her way. Those helmets might be an issue, though…

  
The mustached guard sneered, “Didn’t break any laws, eh? You know my brother died when the city was taken?” He began to shake, his face coloring instantly to scarlet. “Found him in his home with a hole in his chest as big as my fist.” He held up his own as demonstration. “We figured he’d been skewered by those… one of those black rocks. You telling me murder isn’t against the law anymore?”

  
Cassandra’s face fell, felt herself pale, “I didn’t- I wasn’t told… I - I’m sorry.” She looked down into Owl’s wide eyes. “I didn’t know anyone had actually been killed when I… when that happened.” It was true. No deaths had been reported to her. Why hadn’t she been told?

  
The mustached guard spat on the ground, took a step forward. Fidella’s eyes widened.

  
“Yeah. You killed him. And so many others,” he growled. Cassandra looked up, saw that his hand was wrapped around the handle of his sheathed blade. She could hear the scabbard clinking against his greaves as he trembled. On the ramparts above, she heard the other guards who had gathered to watch, their armor clinking amongst their whispers.  
The grip on her own weapon tightened. Fidella tensed below her, ready to jump away at a moment’s notice. The mare normally kept a cool head in the fray, but these were supposed to be allies. Cassandra wasn’t sure how she would react.

  
Cassandra steeled herself, braced for what she thought was about to come.

  
“If you think we’re going to let you out of here without paying for what you’ve done, king’s stamp and Fitzherbert be damned,” he took another step forward and the scrape of metal on metal rang out as he began to unsheathe his sword. “You’ve got another thing coming, b-”

  
The second guard stepped forward, free hand on his companion’s shoulder. The mustached guard froze, taken aback.

  
“What are you-” he began.

  
“Hush,” the second guard said. He looked up to Cassandra, pale eyes filled with a desire to understand, to forgive, even as they were so tinged with pity and sorrow.

  
At the loss she saw there, the sheer humanity, Cassandra thought she might vomit.

  
“We don’t rightly understand everything that happened, everything you went through.”

  
His partner shook his head. “Oh this is just a bunch of bull-”

  
“A bunch of what, Marcus?” The second guard turned to face his friend. “You took an oath, you idiot, to protect and serve. And to follow orders as given by your superiors. That includes letting her through. Without issue.”

  
“And let her get away with everything she’s done, Ewen?” Marcus all but shouted. “No. If they’re too blind to follow through with justice when it’s owed, then I’m going to handle it myself!” He drew his sword fully. Cassandra saw that he meant to rush her, but before she could act, Ewen had jumped between them, both hands on Marcus’ shoulders.   
The proclamation he held fell to the ground. Cassandra watched it drift down, praying that it wouldn’t be trampled or torn.

  
“You don’t want this, Marcus. None of us do.”

  
This was too much. She didn’t want to fight, didn’t want to cause a scene. “Look, I just… please let me through,” Cassandra entreated them.

  
“Not helping!” Ewen said over his shoulder, straining to hold back Marcus as he tried to push past. “Marcus, this isn’t the way.”

  
“I don’t care, I want her dead,” Marcus said, all but foaming from the fervor he’d worked himself into.

  
Cassandra heard booted feet approaching from within the gate towers that stood around them. The guards from above had come below. None moved to intervene. They all watched, waiting to see what would happen. Cassandra wondered why there wasn’t any leadership here to calm this Marcus? Where was the gate captain?

  
“And what will that get you, Marcus?” Ewen asked.

  
“Revenge for my brother. Revenge for Eric.” Marcus’ eyes never left Cassandra’s. Even as the horse pranced beneath her, Cassandra couldn’t break away from his gaze. She felt locked in, drawn by the arrows that seemed to fly, unerring towards her. Staring only served to anger him further, but looking away might convey some weakness, inviting him to act, to push past Ewen and take the opening he perceived.

  
“How will that help his wife, his children? What will happen to them if you lose your commission, if you’re thrown into the dungeons. Or worse?”

Cassandra’s eyebrows shot up. Marcus was the captain.

  
Immediately, he stopped fighting, stopped pushing, the shaking rage that had consumed him evaporating.

  
“If I… then they would…” Tearful eyes finally broke from Cassandra’s own.

  
Ewen stood back, hands still on Marcus’ shoulders. It seemed he was holding the man up now rather than holding him back. Then gently, but firmly, he reached down to take the sword. Marcus didn’t fight.

  
Ewen motioned to another pair of guards among those that now surrounded them. One came to take the sword, the other to help steer their captain away and into the gate house.

  
Before he disappeared inside the tower, he threw Cassandra one more sad, sullen look.

  
“I’m sorry,” she tried to say, but her voice caught, drowned by the tears that she fought to hold back and soured by the bile that crept up her throat.

  
When the door shut behind Marcus and the pair who had led him, Ewen turned back to Cassandra.

  
He sighed, then continued what he had started before.

  
“We don’t know or understand what all happened. We only know what we experienced. What we saw,” he knelt and retrieved the proclamation. It was slightly crumbled and marred by boot marks, but didn’t appear to be torn or ripped. “ But if you ask me, I’d say you seemed as tortured as the rest of us when it was all over.” He handed the paper back to Cassandra. She received it with her right hand, the same that had been injured by Rapunzel during their time in the Great Tree, and then healed again just days ago. The skin still felt new and soft, the muscle pliable and strong, but now she struggled to grasp the document, so tightly had she gripped the hilt of her dagger.

  
“Th-thank you,” she said quietly, finding her voice again. “I’m sorry for everyth-”

  
Ewen held up a hand, then stood aside so her path was no longer blocked. The road rolled on before her.

  
“Just go,” Ewen said. “And I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for. Because right now, it’s not here.”

  
Cassandra opened her mouth, then shut it, decided that there was nothing else to say. Nothing more that could or would help her now.

  
Instead, she nodded and flicked the reins to get Fidella into motion. The mare didn’t need much encouragement, kicking up dirt and loose stones at the opportunity to expel some nervous energy. They rode quickly past Ewen and the other guards and through the archway.

  
Cassandra didn’t dare to look behind her as they went. Before, she had wanted that final look back towards the castle where her old life and her friends remained. Now, she could feel the eyes of the guards upon her as she went, and she couldn’t again face the men who may have lost friends and family during her misguided tirade only a week ago. So she nestled the proclamation within the pages of her gifted journal, replaced it in a saddle bag, and then kicked Fidella into a full gallop.

  
_Rapunzel, why didn’t you tell me?_

  
Perhaps the blame lay with her; Cassandra had never allowed herself to ask, to even broach the subject. The thought of actually having caused harm, having killed anyone during her hold over the castle, turned her stomach, shredded it into a sickly, sour lump, the pain of evisceration as acute as the look of betrayal on Rapunzel’s face when Cassandra had first taken the Moonstone.

  
She didn’t want to know. She had hoped, had prayed to the sun itself that everyone had gotten out safely, that Fitzherbert had evacuated the city when he saw that Cassandra’s rage had gotten the better of her, when he felt the earth tremor, saw the Black Rocks spearing their way from the ground, harder than steel and sharper than a blade. A part of Cassandra thought that, as she had been able to recognize Rapunzel, Varian, and her other friends when they were in contact with the stones, so too would she have been able to detect anyone who may have been harmed by them, much less have touched them. It seems that that had not been the case.

  
During her waning days in the city, no one had volunteered the information to her. She was barred from any meetings or audiences, so anything she could have gleaned was lost. 

  
But why would she have been allowed to remain for them? She was, after all, nothing more than a domestic terrorist; she had come back to her home after stealing a power that should have belonged to nobody, and brought the kingdom to ruins. And they had spared her, kept her out of a cell and away from the chopping block, but only because one person had truly forgiven her.

  
Rapunzel had shielded Cassandra, twice now, saw that she was weak and worn from the entire ordeal, and used her power as princess and her insight as a friend to keep her from harm. Cassandra should have known, should have guessed. She wasn’t stupid, had noticed the way everyone else reacted when she drifted through the castle halls. Groups and pairs kept their faces turned to each other to whisper a joke or quiet gibe just as she passed. Lone travelers stared at their shoes intently, or studied old paintings and tapestries until she was gone, while others simply turned and sped away as soon as they saw her.

  
Fitzherbert, Lance, her father as well, who at first had been so full of joy at his daughter’s return home, all of them bore eyes both empty and fearful whenever she entered the room. Now she knew that it wasn’t just because of the destruction she had caused, both to the city and their hearts, but because of the people she had slain. Even Varian, the boy who she knew had held a love for her, even his eyes lacked the spark they once possessed, the flame snuffed out when he witnessed the carnage she reaped.

  
And not once had she mentioned it, not once had she begged forgiveness for the lives she had unknowingly taken, nor had she carried herself in a way that portrayed, much less signified her guilt. She mostly hid in her room, receiving Rapunzel when she came, her father as well, though she left the city once, a brief excursion that only the princess had been aware of. Cassandra did venture to find the king, to thank him for his leniency, but the man still suffered from poisoning at the hands of the Saporians the year before. Neither he nor the queen seemed much in control of themselves.  
They hadn’t realized what she’d done. 

  
Cassandra pulled on the reins, forcing Fidella to a halt. She jumped off the horse’s back and staggered to the side of the road. Heavy tears fell hot against her skin that had grown so cold with this newest revelation. She doubled over when she reached the grass, screaming her anguish which became a horrible retch, and she soon faced a puddle of snot and bile.

  
“Why, why, why!” Cassandra hammered a fist on the ground, punctuating each shout. She sat back, legs splayed awkwardly, arms slumped down beside her, and she sobbed.

  
This was why.

  
Rapunzel knew that if Cassandra had learned of her misdeeds, how deep her treachery against the kingdom and the people therein had gone, she wouldn’t leave. She would have stayed, served her sentence in whatever form it would have taken, and the misery she had endured for so long would have been endless. Rapunzel had ensured she would leave by hiding the truth that Cassandra had also hidden from herself, giving her the proclamation so that no others would question the crown’s decision.

  
Unless the very guards who were to ensure the crown’s law had suffered just like everyone else.

  
Was her freedom worth the price of death? 

  
The dead would never know what she might experience. Families, likewise, would be trapped within their own despair, unable to escape. They wouldn’t even know the taste of retribution unless they sought it out themselves. And then if the crown, if Rapunzel, found out, would she punish them for disobeying? Or would she hug them, tell them everything was okay, give them a signed bit of paper, stamped and inked, and assume they would just leave?

  
Once, Cassandra thought herself brave. She had fought brigands, jumped gorges, battled monsters, even rescued a princess a time or two. But as she gazed back at the Wall of Corona and the symbol of the golden sun emblazoned upon the stone, she knew she was a coward. Bravery was facing your fears, accepting odds that were against you, striving to rise above whatever you might endure.

  
But all Cassandra wanted to do was run. 

  
She took a breath, willed herself to set aside these revelations and shed the guilt that had been draped across her shoulders like a shroud. She took it in her mind, folded and neat, then placed it on the high shelf inside her closet. It would need to be addressed, aired out, but for now she would focus on what she had instead, what she had gained. 

  
She wouldn’t, she couldn’t go back, not now. Not after she was here, freedom stretched before her, calling her to a life where she wouldn’t have to gather laundry or mop the floors, where she didn’t have to heed commands or summons, where her time was her own, and the choices she made were based on her desire and will alone.

  
Cassandra looked to the east. The sun was still rising into the sky, flying high and wild, warm and welcoming. Then she looked back to the wall, to a gilded sun, dull and lifeless as it sat without motion. Held in place.

  
She sniffed, spat to get rid of the taste of bile, then wiped her face with the back of a gloved hand as she stood to mount Fidella. The mare had stayed close by, nose pressed against Cassandra’s back, an affectionate and familiar touch, the closest she would likely get on this side of the wall.

  
She would make amends. She would say her sorries. But it would happen later. For now, Cassandra would take what she had been given, even if she had run through so many illusions to finally win her prize.

  
Mounted, she turned Fidella and kicked the mare into motion. They rode east, and the warmth of the sun dried Cassandra’s tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, thank you to everyone who chose to stop by and read. I am immeasurably grateful for your readership and (hopefully) support. 
> 
> Second, a huge thank you to AtticusKaine, whose own work and encouraging words after sharing this piece gave me the last push I needed to post. Their work over in The Owl House fandom has become a huge inspiration, and, if I'm being frank, has helped me to recommit myself to the writing craft. 
> 
> *Side Note That Should Really Be It's Own Post* If you enjoy The Owl House and you have not read Atticus' work, you should. I highly, HIGHLY recommend it. They are an incredible writer, and the story that Atticus has weaved completely and utterly broke me (in all the best ways) for several days when I first read through. And the best part is that it's still ongoing! "In Your Orbit" is the central narrative, but is threaded through by other shorter fics that detail relationships for characters aside the main two. All of it is masterfully done - seriously, I cannot recommend it enough. Okay, /endrant. 
> 
> I'm a student of writing (literally, ya boi got a BFA in creative writing almost 4 years ago, now) but had experienced so much negativity during those years that I all but gave up as soon as I had the degree in hand. At the beginning of this year, I was convinced to watch the Tangled series. Always a lover of stories, and having enjoyed the Tangled movie a decade ago (yeesh), I was still trepidatious, but like the rest of you, I'm sure, I quickly realized how wrong I was. I fell in love again with Rapunzel and Eugen, Maximus and Pascal, and learned to love new characters, most notably Cassandra.
> 
> She is a heroine whose challenges embody so much of the struggle facing so many in today's world. She is bold, powerful, unafraid to make her desires known, and while her actions may not reflect he wisest course of action, she was left with little else to do in the end. As I watched, I saw the climax of her fall and her redemption occur almost simultaneously; she didn't truly want to betray her friends, and Rapunzel least of all. There were so many times when she almost backpedaled, when she would stop herself and you could see the questioning look in her eyes. But she wasn't questioning those around her, it was always aimed inwards. 
> 
> And so, complex and wonderful as she is, Cassandra has become my muse. She has summoned me back into this wide literary world, and along with her, I hope to tell a story that explores as much of her character as I'm able. 
> 
> This first story is definitely just a beginning to a wider tale that I may go on to tale. I am as yet undecided. There will be action. There will be exploration. There will be discovery, in several meanings of the world. There may be romance; I'm honestly not sure if she's ready for such a thing, though, given all that she's gone through. We'll see. 
> 
> This is also as much of an exploration for her as it is for me. I have most of the story mapped out in my head, with several chapters already written and awaiting editing/revision. I'm hoping that I can use this whole process to begin to discover what really works for me as a writer, so please bare with me as I continue to work out my own workflow kinks. I'd like to publish one chapter weekly, so having all of this be so public will hopefully give me the push to keep that desire alive and keep me working daily. I am utterly dumbfounded by other authors (I'll note Atticus again - they're an absolute writing machine) who are able to plan out so far ahead and keep any consistent schedule. This first chapter is the result of a 40-thousand word ramble that was then taken and reworked over the course of a week. All of that, and I still just barely know where this all may go. 
> 
> But I digress. Thank you again so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed, and if you have any comments or questions, I am more than happy to engage with you below, and even look forward to it! 
> 
> -barrelcat


	2. First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road for the first time by herself, Cassandra reminisces about times past and begins to recognize the challenges she'll face as she travels alone.

Cassandra told herself she wasn’t alone on her journey. Fidella and Owl had been her companions for years, and both animals possessed a preternatural intelligence that belied their wild origins. Owl shared her instincts in combat; when stealth was a priority, she had always been able to rely upon his eyes, the careful scrutiny the bird applied to every situation, and the hooting calls he utilized to warn her of danger.

Likewise, when mounted, Cassandra and Fidella were as one. Incidents like those at the gate notwithstanding - the guards had supposedly been allies - Cassandra felt as comfortable swinging a sword on horseback as she did on foot. The mare didn’t balk at danger, instead road headfirst into it, if that was Cassandra’s requirement.

An implicit trust existed between all of them, Owl and Fidella as well. Cassandra would often find the bird perched atop the horse, could even hear them hooting and nickering back and forth as if in deep discussion of some current event. She laughed every time, mirth filling her heart that two creatures so near and dear yet so different from each other could have fallen into friendship so easily. She understood them, to a degree, through body language and their esoteric sounds and calls; and they her, perhaps more so.

She knew animals could read emotion, had seen cats and dogs nuzzle and bundle up to their humans who were in tears, or bound around their owners who were happy and joyful, echoing laughter and smiles with barks and swishing tails. So she knew that Owl and Fidella could see her own sadness when they had settled into camp that first night. The bird sat upon her shoulder nuzzling her cheek, while the other stood close by, hoofing the ground and nosing her leg playfully.

They were her friends, but she couldn’t help but feel lonely. Every task concerned with setting camp reminded her of days before, when she had traveled across the land with her closest friends in a caravan that by rights shouldn’t have been able to survive the journey it endured.

She had pushed Fidella to ride well beyond nightfall, wanted to get as much distance between them and Corona as possible before halting. The mare hadn’t minded, had been full of that nervous energy from their unpleasant interlude at the wall. When Cassandra’s tears had dried and the roiling pit in her stomach had ceased, exhaustion had taken her, and she was forever thankful that Fidella had been able to steer herself without much direction.

There, the first memory struck; hardy as she had been, many were the times that some mystery ailment had struck one or all of them, and the best remedy was to crawl into the beds afforded by the caravan to rest. Creature comforts they were, unattainable in such a fashion to virtually anyone else Cassandra could think of, but the reason they had been available was also why the pang of loss was so acute.

Often Cassandra would wake during one of these bouts of illness, and there she would be, golden hair bound up, sheen of sweat on her own forehead, smiling as wide as she could to offer a drink or broth or simply an encouraging word, a caring hand upon Cassandra’s cheek.

Likewise, Cassandra had sat over the princess’ bed, though she had taken to some road sick only once. Dabbing a cool cloth over her brow, Rapunzel had awoken from her fever, confused and mumbling in a slight delirium, but Cassandra saw the way she had calmed, features softening when her eyes landed upon her helper…

Choosing a spot for camp had been easy; far from the road, within a copse of trees that provided equal amounts of shelter and easy vantage should anyone try to sneak upon them in the night. She knew she would sleep soundly, could trust in the heightened senses of Owl and Fidella, especially the former.

A lit torch allowed her to gather firewood, the act bringing another flood of images from a time past; forays into the wood, as much to forage as to simply slip away, to disappear together as they had in the castle so many times before. A shared insight to make her eyes widen, a quiet joke to make her laugh, a stolen glance at a beauty outlined by the sun as it streamed through the trees, then catching her eye to get a smile Cassandra kept only for herself.

With a fire lit, she unpacked easily enough, removing Fidella’s saddle and brushing the mare quickly before setting out her own gear.

The small clearing within the copse seemed to have formed just for her. It was also possible that other travelers who often slept there had cleared it of brambles and overgrowth. Cassandra knew hideaways such as this must exist across the wilds, known to pilgrim and ranger alike. She would have to record them for her own use.

She drank and ate by the fire, tucking into a collection of dried meats, some cheese and bread, as well as grapes and half an orange. It was welcome fare, and she was surprised to find her appetite ravenous despite the sickly knot that had sat in her belly for the better part of the day.

“Gotta keep a balanced diet out there, Cass,” Rapunzel had said at their parting. “And don’t open this one unless you want something really sweet,” then she handed Cassandra a parcel wrapped in the unmistakable parchment paper from Atila’s bakery.

She eyed the package of sweets, but her stomach grumbled in disapproval, the thought of so much sugar causing it to threaten rebellion once again.

Parched, she downed the contents of her canteen, then went to refill it at a small creek that flowed nearby and away from the copse. The moon was full and bright, and outside of the trees it bathed her in its silvery glow. Kneeling at the edge with canteen submerged, she could see herself clearly, the water’s surface a mirror that flowed like time through her mind.

Even the annoyances of their journey made her eyes sting with tears. Fitzherbert preening before any surface that caught his reflection, his vanity drawing her ire; Lance, jovial as always, whistling a tune that brightened his mood but grated against her nerves; Rapunzel, ever the creative, persistent mind, scratching her thoughts into a journal already filled with so many memories. Of losses and triumphs, friendship, love, and a single betrayal…

Seated again, Cassandra brought out her own journal. She was struck by its beauty, the care and attention given to its decoration as well as crafting, and wondered if Rapunzel’s hand had given it life as well as character. Soft, durable leather, held shut by a simple leather thong, holding together bound sheafs of heavy parchment that appeared able to resist leagues of use and wear. The cover was stamped and painted, covered with images depicting their time together, hugging and smiling, standing victorious, all connected by a long thread of golden feathers.

No, not feathers, hair.

She rested a hand on the cover.  _ Like my memories of you, so will these new tales be wreathed by your golden glow… _

The most prominent image was that of a split sun and moon, their colors mingling while their shared corona stretched out to surround the painted version of Cassandra and Rapunzel. It was a subtle message, but one she hoped she understood: just as the Sundrop and Moonstone were forever bound, so too were she and the princess. Often they had been at odds, the power of the stones magnifying these differences as one gave and the other took, one healed with the other destroyed. But still they were meant to be together, bonded for eternity.

Cassandra shut her eyes tight, fighting off more tears. She had cried more in the last few months than in all her life before. And here she was, finally out in the wilderness where she wanted to be, away from the confines of the castle, direction and instruction. She was master and servant to only herself, and yet wished briefly for the days when she didn’t have to worry about the future because it was already laid out before her.

Fidella snorted, and Cassandra looked up. The horse was staring at her, head cocked to the side.

_ How was it that these animals were so smart? _

Cassandra wiped the wet from her face, tried to smile.

“I’m okay, girl. Just homesick. Already. Blech.”

The mare bobbed her head, and Cassandra swore it was a nod.

She looked back down at the journal. Carefully, she untied the thong that held it closed and opened to the first page. On the inside of the cover was a message.

_ Plus est en Nous - Love Raps. _

Cassandra took a deep breath, eyes shut. “There is more in me, Raps,” she whispered. She took out a quill, dipped it in ink, and brought it to the page.

Her hand hovered, unsure of what to pen, what to say. Rapunzel had always exercised her thoughts as if she were possessed, writing, doodling, scribbling anything that came to her mind, until every other page looked like either the ramblings of a madman or the recent masterpiece of the most skilled artisan.

What had happened to her thus far? The revelation of the depth of her misdeeds, a brush with battle that she may not have escaped, tears and a puddle of vomit on the side of the road. None of these were worthy of recording.

A fat drop of ink fell from the quill to splatter messily on the page. She started, tried to wipe it away, but stained the page and her fingers in the process. Frustrated, she shut the book, instilling the smear as the recording of her first day on the road. A sardonic laugh escaped her.

She ran her hand over the grass, tried to get the ink off, but it crept into the crevices of her fingers, the black settling there and around her nails. A taint to remind her of the day’s failures.

_ Is this what her journey offered? Loneliness and scorn? _

She hung her head, grimaced at the thought.

_ It will get better. It has to. _

“There is more in me,” she reminded herself.

With a reverence that belied the soreness of her heart, Cassandra put the journal away and discarded the quill in the fire. It was a small vengeance for its refusal to channel her thoughts into some optimistic phrase. She didn’t fret at its loss; Rapunzel had given her several.

She stretched, gaze traveling lazily around the clearing to find both Owl and Fidella watching her with eyes both soft and caring. They were filled with a love that only a pet could hold for its owner.

No, not pets, companions. Friends.

Cassandra smiled, held her arms out and they came to her, the mare stepping lightly to push her head into Cassandra chest, the owl alighting next to her and hopping into her lap, snuggling close. She could feel their warmth, their affection bleeding into her. Tears fell again, but their sting was lessened, their draw on her tinged with something else; the promise that these two, at least, would always be with her.

“Thank you both,” she said into their huddle.

With a shuddering breath, she pulled back, kissed each, gave their heads a scratch and a pat. The mare nuzzled her once more, then ambled away to continue grazing and perhaps sleep herself. Owl hooted softly, then flapped his wings to ascend to the crooked boughs above, and Cassandra was wrapped in a blanket of safety knowing that he would watch over her in the night.

Alone but not, and with her first day behind, Cassandra laid back and closed her eyes, welcoming the sleep that swiftly came.

***

The world was quiet, silenced by a pall of black that doused every sight, every sound. Beneath her, the earth was cold, solid as steel, a sheen present from light that had been smothered long ago. She wore it, the earth, an armor encasing her as sure as plate, as flexible as leather, silk even. It freed and bound her, chilled her marrow and warmed the places closest to her heart.

Slowly, gracefully as petals bloom from the bulb, she unfolded herself from the floor, stood and walked, at once terrified and full of confidence. She ventured into the darkness, was drawn by a music that played in her chest. It reverberated on strings that thrummed around her heart, and they pulled and tugged her onward.

Her footfalls echoed into the void, bouncing back off walls that didn’t exist even as she could sense their advance. They surged towards her, their groan as swift and terrible as the crashing waves. And as the moon pulls the tides, so too did she lash her arms out to grasp those surging waters in her hands. The currents were brought to bear as she wrung them beneath her fingers.

They pushed, strained against her, but she did not yield, and the light that wasn’t there flared into brilliance upon her breast. From her, that opalescence flashed and crackled, bleeding into earth and ocean as they fought to bring her to heel. At her feet, the earth pulsed with power, a ripple that soon became the tide, the waves, a crushing torrent.

Still the world pushed back.

She screamed, the sound of shattered glass and shorn stone escaping her mouth. It was answered by a thunder clap. Her back arched as lightning struck, jagged hot and white, the moon’s malice embodied and sizzling through the air, through her as living conduit, and the earth became charged. The torrent she controlled was subsumed by veins of cerulean, growing from her as roots from the ageless tree. They pulsed a steady beat in time with her heart, their tracts as straight as the blades she had wielded.

Her chest heaved from the strain, knees threatening to buckle, arms tensed and shivering. But she would not be halted, would not be swallowed and cast into the dark as it threatened from all sides.

Grimacing against the pain and raging against the chilling doubt as it swept in and around her feet, lapping at her ankles and threatening to pull her under, she shouted, willing what latent energy that still resided within to contest, to win.

But the sound that answered was not of lightning or glass, or even of the turbulent storm. Silence reigned despite the ferocious whirlwind surrounding her, followed by the intake of a breath.

Then the exhale.

She tensed, the light at her chest abruptly doused, her candle against the dark snuffed out.

And then the waves consumed her.

***

Cassandra woke, spitting and sputtering to get the sea water from her mouth. Her eyes searched her surroundings, confused to find that she was laying out in the wilderness, Fidella nearby and a spent campfire beside her.

Beyond a thin veil of trees, the sun was beginning to peak above the horizon, the sky tinged with pink and purple. She took a haggard breath, remembered the events of the previous day and finally recognized the camp she had made hours before.

It was nothing, a dream.

_ Of course it was. Nothing could have been that terrifying. _

She put a hand to her breast, over her heart, felt the smooth cloth of her top, the stitching that held it together. There was nothing more except a strange, lingering absence, a sense of loss perceived as a spot of radiating cold.

She shivered.  _ Well, almost nothing. _

Stretching, she shook her head to break through the thin liminal barrier between sleep and wakefulness, then stood and busied herself with breaking camp. There was little to do; she was, after all, by herself, and the animals were self-sufficient to a degree.

As she worked, flashes of the dream returned, each forgotten as quickly as they reappeared; the void, the waves, a light, no, the Moonstone, her struggle, and then defeat as it was taken from her. With each glimpse of memory, she paused in her task, tried to remember, to analyze, but they flew past her mind’s eye, reflections in broken ice lost as they were swept down a wintry river. She was able to hold onto the emotion rather than the events, and the recollection of confidence, of power, and then debilitating loss…

Wearing the Moonstone had been… intoxicating, like the first kiss from a new lover, filled with the heat, the electricity, the promise that such a thing carried. It had been consistent and never ending. Cassandra had reveled in every moment, every minute, and more than once wondered how Rapunzel had learned to live with such a gift. So exquisite was the stone’s touch that the only way Cassandra could think to control its power that threatened to overwhelm her was by channeling her anger and fear and anguish, pushing herself to overcome the tempestuous magic she knew had seduced her. And when that power was made to serve rather than control, the outcome had been magnificent.

Until the stone was removed and the crimson glamour it had cast upon her melted like glass in the furnace of her new found clarity, and she was able to see the world again through eyes unclouded by the hatred it channeled from her heart. That anger had become sorrow, had become regret, and all were pushed aside when her oldest, closest friend had held her tight.

_ Some desires could never be obtained… _

Cassandra didn’t know what the dream meant or why it mattered. She decided that it didn’t, that it was just her mind adjusting to this new trajectory. Life on the road would be hard, but she would face it like she did everything else: carefully, methodically, and for the first time in forever, as she saw fit. That thought alone filled her with a determination she hadn’t felt since… since…

Since she had committed herself heart and soul to stealing the Moonstone.

But even then, she hadn’t been alone. The stone had been a companion in its own right, its voice a steady thrum of ecstasy and power that bloomed from her chest whenever her heart beat, whenever she took a breath. In those moments where she had wrestled it to compliance so the ebb of its power flowed outward rather than inward, the warlock had been there. Zhan Tiri, the literal devil on her shoulder, had guided her down a path of treachery that ultimately suited the warlock’s needs rather than Cassandra’s, an end she should have seen from the beginning… and maybe she had.

Misguided as that foray had been, Cassandra had learned so much about herself, about a past and origin none had spoken of before. As she packed, her eyes passed briefly to the handle of a silvered mirror, its cracked face wrapped by a strip of thick cloth. Possessed of a magic to render moving picture and audible word, it remained the only connection Cassandra had to her mother. The memory captured was a painful one, and its discovery had been manufactured by Zhan Tiri, but it was Cassandra’s only tie to a lost childhood, the only reminder. And for that, at least, Casandra was thankful.

All of this she had gained and gleaned without her friends or father, and instead with aid of another, malignant entity. But now here alone and with the blessing of her friends, or at least one of them, she was, despite the comfort that Fidella and Owl provided, without anyone to guide her. There was no one to speak to, no one to confide in, no one to tell her she was wrong or right or as clueless as she felt. The animals, with all their instinct and training, could never pass the litmus for real human reasoning, could never provide the bond that might develop between two people untethered and wandering the wilds of the world.

Out beyond the Corona walls, Cassandra  _ was  _ alone.

It was a sobering thought, one she had before acknowledged and welcomed with open arms as readily as a child to its new puppy: overjoyed that it was finally hers. But now that she held it, what would she do with it?

Train it. Raise it. Master it.

…and yet, even the most well trained beast bites at its master from time to time.

Cassandra shook her head, hand fishing through her pack to reach an item that sat beside the mirror. Her most recent acquisition, it was a knit cap of soft green with a simple design stitched on its front, that of a hammer and tongs crossed over each other in silver thread. She brushed her thumb over the image before leaving it be.

Cassandra would find her destiny and tame the wilderness as she went, as she saw fit. She knew that she could do it without help, aid, or instruction. The future was hers and she would fight for it.

In short order, she had eaten and packed, saddled Fidella, and was ready to continue her journey. With a last look over her camp, Cassandra led the mare back to the main road and mounted to leave the first night behind.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, and welcome! 
> 
> This week’s entry is a bit shorter than our first foray into Cass’ new adventures, but it delves into some of the reflection and self-doubt I felt our protagonist would be feeling. If you are enjoying this tale, please rest assured that this has been the shortest chapter I’ve written thus far, and I hope it does enough to tide you over until next week’s. 
> 
> Also, I thought I’d take a stab at a good ol’ dream sequence, and decided to go whole hog on the “purple prose” as it were. I figured if there was a place to throw it in, it would be here. Hopefully it doesn’t detract from everything else too much. 
> 
> I have to say, I was a bit floored by all of the positive feedback I received both here and on other platforms. I really wasn’t expecting that, or any, level of welcome, but it’s done wonders to boost my self-esteem. So thank you all who have left kudos, subbed, left a comment, book marked (though I’ll be honest - still not sure what this does/means, haha) or simply stopped by. It means the world to this writer who has so recently reentered the literary gauntlet. 
> 
> So thank you again to everyone. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and can’t wait for you to read more!


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